


If You Find This Letter

by Doukz



Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Angst, Death, Depression, Gen, M/M, Murder, Self Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, not tagging every animatronic, only the important ones, please let him be a nice person, please let my ships exist, subtle shipping, suicide note, this story is a suicide note, will updated tags as needed, william is not a jerk for once
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-06-21 02:03:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15547173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doukz/pseuds/Doukz
Summary: Michael goes back to Circus Baby's Pizza World after its closure to look for information on the remaining pizzerias and whereabouts of everyone he once knew. While searching through his father's old office he happens across an unusual document stashed away in one of the drawers of his desk- an abandoned suicide note.Everything he'd known and hated about his father may change after he reads the contents of the note left behind, waiting to be found.





	1. Page 1 - Dear possible readers

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter contains:  
> -underlying depressing themes  
> -William not being a total jerk for once  
> -Death, not very descriptive though  
> -I think that's it  
> -very subtle shipping that's very subtle and did I mention it's subtle  
> -alternate title: William rambles about gay (ty silv uvu)  
> -I can't write summaries for shit  
> -oh right there's some cussing  
> -William x Henry = Helium and you can't stop me and it's very subtle in this chapter
> 
> -Warning, I haven't posted a story in a while, I haven't really written in a while, and yeah so I'm rusty  
> -really rusty writing skills right now

 

                The boxes around the metal office looked as though they had been through a hurricane- tons of cardboard containers thrown over each other, kicked onto their sides, or even partially torn through. Papers littered the cold floor more than usual, and the thick dust disturbed from its resting place. The worn leather swivel chair had been knocked on its side, and two out of three of the small tvs placed in the room were now nothing but debris, smashed into the floor.

 

                He had come back for it. And he couldn’t find it. After all that trouble, he couldn’t find the damned thing he was looking for. No, there were multiple things we wanted. And if his sacrifice meant anything, he felt he at least deserved that much. All of the documents on the floor, despite his earlier determination, held nothing even close to what he wanted to know. What he wanted to reassure himself of, to make sure he wasn’t really going insane. But every paper either informed him of yet another rental or a small lawsuit- nothing like the kind he had original expected to discover.

 

                Out of fear of the right papers having been hidden thoroughly, he even broke apart the fan to check, his hands weak with the effort of smashing it into one of the tvs- and then immediate revulsion has he realized there was nothing inside either of them. At one point he’d even tried breaking another tv screen to check, but he got nothing but shards of glass stuck into his already scarred hand.

 

                “Where is it?!” he growled hoarsely, his voice too messed up to ever be fluent anymore- if he really tried he could pull of a normal voice relatively well, but otherwise he sounded like a druggy with a sore throat. The thought made him have a small reflexive laugh, but the humor soon became pain as he had to grip his side when pain exploded there. _No more laughing_. He tried to focus on looking for the other items again. Where was that radio?! It had been here last time, when he was in… Better condition.

 

                “I guess… It’s really gone.” He stopped where he sat shifting through the drawers in the metal desk and slumped backwards. He pulled his hand up to brush a strand of stiff brown hair away, and then unconsciously began studying his own hand. It was… Horrifying, disgusting, hideous- to say the least. Rotten purple flesh that mixed and blended with hard steel and wires. All that was left of his own body was a metal frame left by his old parasite, his blood sitting in his veins somehow dormant, and his rotting flesh. He wasn’t sure if he even had a brain or muscles, or anything a human body should have anymore- his hand was missing two fingers itself, where the metal frame stuck out to create two sharp fake fingers. He let out a shaky sigh- he hoped it meant he still had lungs, and made himself calm down. He had all the time in the world to spend now; he shouldn’t rush his decaying body right now. It would only make things worse, and his only purpose in life was to fulfill a certain request- he would hate himself more if he couldn’t do even that.

 

                Resigning himself to looking back through the drawers slower, he sifted through the papers inside carefully- placing the lawsuits and rentals into their own pile. Occasionally he would get a kid’s scribbled on drawing of Fredbear or the original Bonnie (which he found weird, considering he was in the office for Circus Baby’s rental services) which he decided to make into its own stack.

 

                He pulled out another paper, and considered putting it into the lawsuit pile when he glanced at the lengthy paragraphs and several cuss words (a personal letter to the company? Surprising) but he stopped when his eyes skimmed over the words _Fredbear_ and _trapped_. He let himself read a little bit further, and slowly pulled the paper back over to him, discarding the others in his hand so he could read this one better. He gathered a few key words before he decided to read from the beginning- _Cassidy_ , _murder_ , and… _Sorry_. Had his jerk of a father wrote this?!  He let his imagination ponder only for a few spare seconds until he gripped it closer, got comfortable against the desk, and read.

 

                _I should start with a small explanation. I’ve rewritten this document several times, and I never quite manage to get it right or adequate enough for any public eyes to lay on it. I intend on finishing it eventually, but, perhaps not yet. I am going to keep all the copies, just in case I don’t… Finish.  
_

 

                The living corpse took a small break. This sounded a lot more like Henry than his father- maybe he just got hopeful- whatever that meant.

 

                _Anyways, I’m writing this to explain why I’ve decided to… End everything early. I know an explanation probably won’t do much good, and I highly doubt the probability of anyone finding this paper anyways- although there is one person who I do imagine might find this… Michael._

_“me.”_ He muttered. He had been close with Charlie’s dad, but now he began to question things.

 

                _I know these words won’t mean much, and it doesn’t excuse what I did at all. I know I’m a horrible human being- hardly a person even, but… I should warn any possible readers now- this message won’t be pretty. As I said before, I’ve rewritten this many times- and although each time I do manage to lessen the blow on myself  and make the wording more rational- I haven’t gotten very far and I hope you don’t expect a perfect recounting of everything. I’m… Somehow human, after all. I just... I want to try, I want someone to know my... "side of the story", as you will.  
_

A few mixed emotions swirled throughout Michael. What was he…? He felt bad? This wasn’t right- he was a monster. He was… He bit his tattered tongue and continued onto the next paragraph.

 

                **I**

 

_My name is William Afton. You probably know that if you’re reading this. I helped build the franchise known as Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza. I had three children- Elizabeth, Michael, and Cassidy. I love them all deeply, but it… May not seem like it, and understandably so. I did get two of them killed after all. My wife, who’s name isn’t important at this point in time (I would rather her privacy be kept intact), left shortly before Cassidy was born. I… I’ll get into those details later._

_Henry’s family consisted of his twin children, Sammy and Charlotte and his wife Susan. Susan wasn’t there long after Charlotte… She took Sammy with her. I’m glad she did._

**II**

_Now, I personally am not a religious man, but it truly was a miracle I managed to run into Henry. At this point in time I only had two children, one hardly turning two, and his twins were the same age. We met on a rare fateful encounter- I hadn’t meant to run into him, but he was lugging two heavy boxes on top of each other out of a crafts store and, being in the busy area downtown he was in and having a large obstruction in front of his face, of course he was doomed to crash into something. That something, however… Happened to be me. He seemed a bit scared he’d somehow offended me, but I simply laughed it off and helped him put the stuff back into the box- which I noticed were a bunch of nuts, bolts, and circuit boards. I’d known a bit about robotics and other machinery myself, so I asked him about it while I took over one of the boxes for him- we hit it off from there. I had just moved into the area, so he… Was really the first friend I’d made, so of course he meant a lot to me… Heh, that sounds wrong._

Michael inwardly cringed at the humor.

 

_Anyways, I got his number so we could meet up one day when he finished one of his robots. He was working on building a character all by himself. I offered to help, but he politely declined- he had a mission and wanted to accomplish it. I agreed, but part of me felt a bit put off. I suppose I just wanted to have a friend, it was lonely, to say the least._

_He finally did call me up a few months later- and I was astonished. The robot he had built did have a few rough kinks in the fabric, but for the time it was a graceful creature with a bright life surrounding it. He’d painted the fabric yellow, since the cheapest he could find was gray, and added a cheap top hat to it and a few baked clay teeth. He managed to get it to do a few things, like open its mouth and twist around. Needless to say, before I get too far into detail, he let me adjust the robot and help him with the next one. We also ended up discussing possible business options- I explained to him I had a degree regarding that sort of thing- and we hit it off from there, buying a lot, rebuilding the robots together (coming up with the suit and animatronic hybrid at the same time) and opening the diner a year or so after. My ex-wife had come back and dumped her child at my house, Cassidy, while I was gone one day. Michael was the only one home, she told her he was mine and I deserved him. I didn’t. I didn’t deserve anyone. I know she didn’t mean it nicely, though. I’m sorry._

 Michael took another breather. All of this was so… Descriptive. Was he trying to tell his life story? He dismissed his inner critic- all of this stuff was new to him, and he was starting to put together a few things about all of this. A few he probably would have been happier not knowing, but he did come here for info, and this was coming from a primary source at least.

 

                _So Fredbear’s Family Diner opened in 1978. And closed shortly after an incident in 1983. Everything was going great, me and Henry ran the business together, and frankly I think we made the best partners I’d ever seen- the franchise was so successful we agreed to expand it into new and improved characters, but we took it slow, just in case. I myself launched my own robotics company that would help the franchise we started- Henry owned the name pretty much- Fazbear entertainment. I even did something out of the ordinary for the time- I died my hair a complimentary purple, since I had to show my face around the pizzeria a lot and honestly, me and Henry had become part of the attraction. Thank god it faded somewhat and I had dark hair, because even I got a bit of unwanted anxiety from all the critical stares outside the restaurant. During this grace period, Charlotte and Elizabeth grew so close they were almost inseparable. Every day they would play together- taking turns between Elizabeth’s choice of dolls and Charlie’s tomboyish game preferences. They reminded me of myself and Henry to be honest- they were perfect for each other ~~. I wouldn’t have minded if th~~  forget that. I need to rewrite this anyways._

_After a few months we had a bit of a security breach and a few hundred dollars went missing, so Henry built a new robot- a plastic puppet that would sit at the only entrance and look for specific color coded bands. He implemented it early during 1983_

_That was when… Cassidy died._

The rotting corpse inhaled sharply. Here it came. The truth. He would spill out about how he had planned it from the beginning, how he never really cared and how he had shoved away the death to focus on the franchise.

 

_It was my fault._

Michael stopped. What?

 

**III**

                _I knew Cassidy was terrified of the animatronics. But I thought that it would be a perfect opportunity to relieve him of his fears if we celebrated his birthday there! I… Wasn’t thinking. I was stupid. I just thought that, if he saw that his father was the one in those suits, or Henry- everyone was fond of Henry- that he might not be so scared anymore. I should’ve known Michael would try to do something like... That. Me and Henry knew how dangerous the springlockes could be, but the kids didn’t. We knew how strong the robots were, how dangerous it was to mess with them the wrong way. Kids don’t know these things._

_Michael, he and his friends- they were around twelve at this time- and they were nothing short of bullies, and besides Michael- nothing more than dults._

Michael stopped for a second. He felt a little bit of joy spread through his body at his father’s approval, but it didn’t really take over the stronger negativity radiating off and into him.

                _They took Cassidy, and they wanted to scare him. They didn’t want him to… They stuffed my boy’s head into the Fredbear animatronic- I didn’t know quite how hard or far as I was in the other room- but when the deathly scream hit me I had the sudden weight filling in every other sense in my body. I rushed out, and I saw Michael order his gang to hold the jaw open as he caught his younger brother and his head- oh god his head- it was… You couldn’t tell then, but a whole chunk of it was still in Fredbear’s mouth._

The undead body would’ve shed a tear if he still had tear ducts, or even tears, but he had to settle with an immense sense of guilt instead. He wasn’t convinced his dad was good- he had charm, so he knew he could persuade everyone he was sorry when he really wasn’t.

 

_I blamed him for a few days- I didn’t show it, or I tried not to. After those long, sleepless nights passed, however, I found a new blame. Because I couldn’t accept I had been the dumb ass, I turned all of that hate towards Henry. Now, I never showed it, but I hated him. And I didn’t. I… Well, I suppose I shouldn’t say that._

_The important thing is at the time I thought if you take my child, I’ll take yours. I was blinded by rage. I argued with myself over it- it was wrong, but I wanted to do it. It told me to kill **her.** I didn’t really want to, but… I wanted revenge. And so, before my daughter’s birthday party (it was close to Halloween, but during school, so it ended up being a costume/birthday party) during my shift, I told the kids playing that there was a game a little girl was playing. She was going to play tag with everyone- and everyone needed to make sure she didn’t get in the building. I didn’t need to say more than that- Charlotte had a small history of being bullied in the past anyways, so any kids that knew her made sure this little plan carried out.  
_

_It worked smoothly. Charlotte tried to open the door, but the kids had locked it- they mocked her, and left. I walked up, I didn’t want her to see me- she would’ve seen a messed up, teary eyed man with a knife. She turned around. She saw me. And then I stabbed her in the neck. Charlie drowned in her own blood. I was in such a rage that I… I just dumped her body by the trash and left._

_I didn’t know it, but the security Puppet Henry had built was set to watch a green banded child- and Charlie, damn girl had a green band. It saw Charlie and managed to crawl out and unlock the door and find her. Its mechanical parts were fried and it became nothing but a flimsy puppet. A few days after putting the puppet back into its box and comforting Henry- I cried along with him, but not for the same reason. He felt attacked, he wanted revenge, but he was calmer about it. He cried right into his daughter’s murderer’s shoulder. I cried because I was guilty, I was wrong, and I had ruined my best friend’s life more than anyone ever could. I realized I was becoming a monster._

“Oh god… Oh god.” Michael exhaled slowly. This letter, it felt too real. He was spilling out his life story, and he knew why. His dad was alone, he had such a dark secret that no one could ever know- he could never reveal to this to the light of day if he wanted to remain a free man. So he wrote it all down.  Over, and over again, if the beginning of the letter had anything to say about it.

 

_I also… Began to notice things. I was in the middle of finishing the designs for the Circus animatronics over at a building I had decided would I try to build on my own- although Henry managed to wiggle his way into helping out anyways to get his mind off everything- when I noticed the puppet would… Stare at me. I tried to ignore it, but it wouldn’t stop. It drove me insane- I swear when no one was in the room, it would… Try to push itself out of the box, but because it had no mechanical parts in it anymore it just kind of… Flailed around a little. Not enough for anyone to question it, however. I tried fixing  it, but it was hard to get near. It couldn’t do anything to hurt me- I thought- but when I tried to take a screwdriver to its face its arms wrapped around my neck and tightened. I threw the thing off without much of a hassle, and it just laid there for a few hours after that. I made Henry go put it back- he gave me the weirdest look I’d ever seen from him, but I couldn’t explain. I couldn’t tell him that I thought the puppet was… Watching me, stalking my every movement, that I thought his daughter had… Come back._

_This struck me with a new idea though- if she had really possessed the puppet, then… Did Cassidy? Did my son? I needed to know, so I told Henry I would be taking over the night shift for a while to “see how the animatronics acted” at night. He told me I was going insane- I told him to shut up. We were best friends, it was fine._

_That night I was both scared and heartbroken. Fredbear didn’t so much as turn his head, but the puppet- that thing slipped out of its present box and… Dragged itself across the pizzeria. I left the building. It tried to follow me. It couldn’t._

_I’m… Running out of space. Dammit, I’m sorry, I get carried away. I’ll leave this with the next page or so- hopefully it doesn’t take up more than that. God I need to rewrite this. No one is going to bother reading this much anyways. I’m stupid, I… I’ll stop for tonight. I need to clear my mind.  
_

Michael sat where he was for several long minutes after that. His father… Did he not…? The mission he was in was brought to the forefront of his mind. Avenge the children, destroy the monster. Free their souls. It was simple, but now the thought seemed to… Wave uncertainty around in his face. Was he doing the right thing? Of course he was, but was there some other way… He shook his head, trying to force the changing thoughts out of his mind. 

“I don’t like this.” He muttered to himself, but his interest was keen and he found himself digging through the drawer for the rest of the papers on his dad’s novel sized suicide note. “But… It’ll pass the time.” he grabbed the documents together, not bothering to count them, and turned to head back out of the building.


	2. Page 2 - Continuing with a clear mind...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael picks up page two
> 
> contains-  
> -more death  
> -cussing  
> -suicidal thoughts  
> -self harm, but sort of subtle  
> -sadly nothing graphic, I may end up removing that archive warning  
> -sad purple murderer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry if this chapter suuucks I never re read my chapters cause it's boring whoops and I wrote it in Word 2010 so it might be completely off or something. If you find errors feel free to let me know, though!  
> also not sure but there should only be one chapter after this? I don't know yet

Michael slipped into his home at around two in the morning. Although the town he was in could be a bit busy even at night, slinking through the right hallways was easy enough, and no one tended to interrupt you there if they saw you. For Michael, that meant everyone. One night he’d had a bit of trouble getting away from a particularly aggressive dog and dove into the thin space as quickly as possible. The dog stopped chasing as it was called back, and he thought he’d been safe from then on. He was proven wrong as soon as he let the thought exist as a hooded man walked out of the shadows with a gun pointed at the right side of the corpse’s head. He wasn’t as bad as he was now, but a chunk of his mouth was already missing- he’d not thought of it at the moment, but the man did as Michael turned to look at him. The thug screamed and ran- he still shot Michael in the face, but whatever.

                The memory wasn’t necessarily fond, but it wasn’t bad either. He didn’t consider it great because it further cemented the reality of his undying lifespan, but the reaction out of the criminal itself was at least enough to brighten his day a little on occasion. These were not one of those occasions, however, and even when he tried to get his mind off of the burning questions in his mind by thinking about other ones they simply fizzled out from the sheer power of the thing his mind wanted to focus on.

                He told himself he would wait- wait until he sunk in everything the first page said. But waiting had become such a tedious game he played- this was new and different. Waiting was not. He dared look over at the small stack of papers- still refusing to count them- and his gaze lingered. He should at least inspect them, but he knew if he did that he would do much more than skim the pages and number the pages.

                “You can wait.” He told himself, but he knew he couldn’t. He wanted to know what his father thought of his own daughter’s death. Of course he could probably guess, but his own personal views on the matter harshly contrasted the note he had been writing. He knew the note was false in a technical sense- it hadn’t served its purpose as he hadn’t committed suicide- and he tried to validate his own feelings based on that lone fact. Michael knew it didn’t help his case at all, though, and in fact more so promoted the pages’ writings- because the note had been stuffed away, never to be seen again, not even by the creator’s son. (Which he found a bit humoring considering the note was written almost specifically for him)

                Another glance at the papers made him let out an exasperated sigh and slump further into the chair at the small dining table he sat in front of. It was unstable from an earlier fit he’d thrown shortly after finding out stabbing himself couldn’t so much as leave a dull throb in his chest, and the table had been repurposed to house every unpaid bill and random object in the apartment that didn’t have a proper place. The ceiling fan in the middle of the room was broken, and the kitchen had been through its fair share of raids from outside vermin and roaches. He’d let everything rot, just as he had.

                _Another trip back to the location might help_ , he thought. Michael still held hope that a paper talking about Funtime Chica or the other closed locations would be tucked away in a corner he’d overlooked, but he knew he’d checked every nook and cranny, which was exactly how he found the office bearing the pages. The pages. His mind jumped right back to those. Why couldn’t he wait?! He’d been doing it so long already, lying in his rotting bed and staring at the ceiling for days on end. He would always, of course, get up at night for his favorite show, but the season at the moment was over and left him with nothing to do… But read the notes.

                He didn’t want to, but his whole body screamed at him to pick them up. He was still processing everything else- his father had given him a lot to take in, after all. He closed his eyes (he still had eyelids) and tried to will the thoughts away and focus on recounting the events. _His father met Henry, they built robots, his son died_ \- he stopped. He was thinking of it the way he’d always thought of it. Michael wasn’t really convinced yet. With a heavy sigh he gave in, and grabbed the papers off of a junked table across the room. He again didn’t count the pages, instead slipping out the second one and falling back into the wobbly chair to read tonight’s note.  
  
                _Page 2_

**IV**

_I’ve taken a day off from continuing this document, and have come back with a cleared mind. I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be able to continue this note, I may have to attach an older copy to these- this is such a mess. At least I wrote the pages so that they’re interchangeable. Regardless, I’ll continue this sick little story. I half hope someone finds this, but… Half of me hopes not. You probably know why by now._

_After I found out the puppet was possessed I began to ponder how such a connection would happen. Why would his daughter haunt a robot but not my son? I thought about it being the emotional connection, but the puppet was far from Charlotte’s favorite and Cassidy had a strong relationship in a… More traumatizing way, but still a strong connection nonetheless. So I took a day to plan my words carefully and asked Henry about his daughter’s death. He was the one that had found her, and I knew the puppet had gone out to retrieve her, but I hadn’t expected this- “I found the security puppet just… Embracing Charlotte.” He recalled. This connected a lot of the dots in my mind- Cassidy hadn’t died with the animatronic, Charlotte, in her own way however, had._

_That was when I decided, if I wanted a chance to bring my son back, I would have to do the unthinkable. This wouldn’t be a revenge kill anymore- it would be premeditated murder of multiple children. The Circus animatronics Henry and I had been working on were almost done, so I made a few… Tweaks to their mechanics. Funtime Freddy had a storage compartment in his torso, Funtime Foxy could replicate voices, Ballora could use her voice to deter and direct children, and Baby… She was meant to be a gift to my daughter, Elizabeth, but I came to the conclusion her design would be best suited for the job. She had already been built in with an ice cream dispenser, so I just… Changed it a little bit._

Michael stopped, inhaled slowly, and closed his eyes. It was coming up, and he wasn’t sure how ready he was to read it.

                _At the same time another pizzeria was being built- I didn’t mention it, but we had opened a rather unsuccessful Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza during 1983 and, well, suffice to say the robots would be better spent as scrap to help build something better. In 1984 we created the new and improved Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza, featuring state of the art security animatronics, mostly of Henry’s creation. The security puppet was moved over there and repurposed to give out free cheap gifts to the kids.\_

**_V_ **

_Anyways, I finally figured Circus Baby’s Pizza World was ready to open, near Halloween, just in time for Elizabeth’s birthday. I told her not to go over to Baby. I didn’t tell her what it could do, but, I thought she might listen- she asked me why she couldn’t play with her, and the answers were simple. “They might break if you touch them,” and “She has to entertain everyone.” I even told her that she was dangerous, but… I could have done more. I could have kept her away from the robot until later. I could have told her it could kill her. But I didn’t. God, why did I have to be such a fucking dumbass…_

_The place was awfully busy, and I was pulled away from the room by a parent concerned about a few kids getting lose to Ballora. Ballora couldn’t kill anyone yet, not like Baby, but for the robot’s sake I left- I sacrificed my own daughter’s safety for that fucking ballerina. Stupid._

_Elizabeth shouldn’t have been killed, but a bunch of kids had left the room too- something over the intercom about Funtime Foxy’s next show. All of them left except her. She stayed, and being a kid she went over to Circus Baby while I was gone. She must have, or else Circus Baby’s mechanism wouldn’t have activated. I wasn’t aware of anything until I heard screaming nearby- a few kids had come back and saw Baby’s middle section covered in blood. I came in, escorted them out immediately, and went to find Elizabeth before I checked… There. I had the feeling- I knew she’d been caught by Circus Baby, but I went across the entire place multiple times before I finally went back to Circus Baby. Everyone else was gone, so I was alone to deal with the problem._

_I… Opened the stomach of the robot-_

                Michael stopped short as he was thrown into a fit of coughs. He also took the time to notice the oddly… More rational and in depth explanation of everything happening- was his style really going to change this much? He tried to ignore it- he was at the worst part of the page (he assumed) and wanted to get it over with and move onto the next part.

                - _And as expected, she was there. Her body was… There was blood everywhere. Her hands weren’t even connected to her own body- I won’t talk about her face. Instead of calling the damn police like I should have, my mind raced and I- I thought the best course of action would be to fucking leave her there. Of course I cleaned most of the blood up, but afterwards I just… Closed the stomach and sat by the robot for several hours. Henry came to find out what happened- I just looked at him. We didn’t say a word. For another hour he just sat there with me and let me sob into his shoulder. He..._

_He’s not going to see this, so it can’t hurt to put it here, right? I… I liked the guy. A lot. It’s too late for that now, I suppose._

Michael stopped, reread the last few sentences of that paragraph, and nearly gagged- he wasn’t sure if it was from childish revulsion or the humor of what his dad was implying. He could tell he was trying to be subtle with it (he guessed he wasn’t brave enough to dump literally everything in the note) but this- this was gold. He let it brighten the mood, although part of him was disgusted by it past a childish sense.

                _Anyways, I knew I couldn’t reap my own daughter’s remnant, and making more robots like this after closing so early would surely… Draw unwanted attention to me. So, clouded behind layers of hate I hatched a new plan. I would experiment by slaughtering any kid I could get away with and… Stuffing them into the old animatronic suits- the ones from the original Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza. But that would come later. At the moment I had to get over my second child’s death, and explain to Michael that he was the only one left._

**_VI_ **

_Michael, if you’re reading this, you probably absolutely hate me and every living cell in my body. I don’t blame you- it’s my fault. I was neglectful to you and a shit fest of a father. That was done on purpose. I needed you… I needed to use you, and I knew that if something happened to me you would be better off hating me than feeling as horrible as you did when you lost your brother and sister. So I’ve made sure that you feel no remorse for what you do, and destroying me if I… Do something idiotic to myself and end up like my victims._

So that was why he was an asshole to him. The conclusion seemed fitting, but also like an excuse for bad parenting, and frankly he was done with excuses at this point. It upset him, but he tried to brush it away- one paragraph to explain years of torment. _Tsk._

_I should’ve been a better person, but the damage has been done and I can’t just- I can’t just stop pretending now. That would be insane._

**_VII_ ** _  
Continuing on from that note, I told my son and he… Took it surprisingly well. Well as in I had expected him to bawl right in front of me and break down, but just walked away speechless instead. Now that I think about it that… Probably was more of a show of how little he trusted me than how well he took her passing._

_For the next few weeks I took to studying remnant, soul juice, spirits- whatever you want to call it. I inspected the puppet (pinned it down and tacked the arms to the wall) but found nothing, and then got a horrible idea. Elizabeth… Had probably possessed Circus Baby. I didn’t want to admit it, but she died with the animatronic- she was physically bound to it in death, just like Charlotte._

_I fought up the courage to check and was not disappointed, not- Why did I write it like that. No, no I’m not thinking of it like that- she was possessing Baby and I wasn’t happy but I still ~~felt accomplished, satisfied that I had gotten somewhere in my research.~~ I’m such a horrible person god why I am even bothering with this I should just_

The page cut off for a few lines, so Michael took a few moments to process what was going through his father’s head. It seemed like when he poured out his story onto the pages, he seemed to be restraining himself. It wasn’t that the notes were getting easier to write, it was that he was getting better at faking rationality. 

                “That’s… Really sad.” He muttered to himself.

                _-I should just end it before I finish this damn shit, no one would read this anyway ~~s I’m such a fucking dumbass. I can’t be bothe~~_

_I found Baby, and Elizabeth had possessed her. I couldn’t- I didn’t know what to do, so I kept her down there. I took notes on her, I… I was scared to talk to her. To interact with her. I heard her call my name sometimes, it… I… Whoever is reading this must realize how horrible I am. God, even I understand some semblance of it and I’m the one who fucking it did it, god. I shouldn’t have left her there, she was so sad, she just wanted **to talk- to understand- and I ~~fucking left her there. That should have been me, not her, she was innocent, I’m so stupid I should just~~** ~~**kill myself right now**~~ _

_I’m sorry. I can’t. I’m trying to stay stable and sane but… I just can’t. It’s all gotten so worse. I’ve come so close. I’ve been… Thinking about ways to… I took the sharpest and longest knife I could find in the kitchen, sharped it some more, and- and I won’t explain the rest. That’s the same knife I… I used to…_

_God, keep it together!! **Stop sounding so pitiful, god I need to stop, I need to just stop before more people end up hurt, I should stop it now-**_ _~~they’re screaming in my head they want me dead~~ _

            Michael stopped. That was the end of the page. One of his father’s mental breakdowns, and… He wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. The corpse couldn’t feel much in the way physically, so emotionally he’d begun to fade away too. This particular page did strike up a few things in him- one of them could almost be described as pity, if he were capable of pitying the one who’d ruined his life. A small, quick thought passed by- _what if I’m the one that ruined my life_. He ignored it. He knew it was true, to an extent, but at this point in the stage of his plans he needed to focus on his goal. His goal that needed more information. And so carefully, he tucked this note back under the pile with the other pages and slipped out page three.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me safely warn you the next chapter gets really dark, I think. I haven't written it yet. but still, the content gets darker.


	3. ...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael reads the final page.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains-  
> -death  
> -lots of child murder  
> -implied possible suicide  
> -suicidal thoughts  
> -implied self harm (very subtle)  
> -subtle shipping?  
> -lots of cussing
> 
> I'm very bad at getting ships to work without making it very very subtle, and this was my first story with (what I call) Helium in it so I hope it's still okay! I might need to edit the tags to take out one ship that was so subtle you can hardly see it if you're looking.

      

   

“…Why?” the hoarse voice muttered weakly. “Why would you go through all this trouble if you…” he stopped trying to make sense of it for now. This was page three, the last of the long suicide note, and he didn’t even bother waiting this time. The sun was finally peeking into his only window, which was boarded up, but he appreciated the little bit of dusty light regardless.

                “Alright, let’s see what you’ve got he- oh my.” Michael stopped as he scanned the first line of the page.

                **VIII**

                T **h** e _y_ ’re comi _ng for m_ e I can _see them_ why won ~~’t~~ they leave me  al ~~o~~ ~~ne why~~ won _t the_ y     ** _le_** ** _a  v  e_** ** _m   e        a   lo_** ** _ne_**  

                It was… Unintelligible, so say the least. Not quite sure what to make of it, he moved onto the next line.

                _I’ve finally gotten to the last page. Finally, god. It took so long to write these things over and over again but… Why am I celebrating- seeing as to how awfully cluttered the last two pages are I’ll most likely have to start over, again. But this is my third attempt, and third time’s a charm, right? I said that on the last pages-_

No he hadn’t. Michael didn’t dwell on it for long, though.

                _But it hasn’t seem to help any. I’m lucky I made it this far again. I’m lucky I was able to fit so much into those previous pages. I’ve been talking about all the bad, but… You know, I never spoke about any of the good. I don’t deserve to dwell on those nice memories, though. Maybe someone would prefer to escape this shitfest for a moment, but I’m sorry to say that’s not going to happen. Leave, take a break. Forget about this even._ _ ~~Would have been better if I was never born~~_

__ _I… Stop. Just stop. God, you’re writing a suicide note, not a diary entry! Fucking get yourself together, dammit. Whoever said writing down your feelings helps was clearly fucking retarded._

The messiness of the page did strike the corpse’s interest. Hadn’t he said something at the beginning of page two about clipping an old version together? It made sense, considering the foreign symbols at the beginning. He could only guess what the third version of page two looked like, then. Or the originals. Michael vaguely wondered if it was just purely random symbols, but turned his attention back to reading.

 

                **IX**

               

                _They’re haunting me. They won’t stop. It was several months ago, after Elizabeth’s death when I got the courage to… Carry out my plan. We had a “new and improved” Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza nearby. We still do, I mean, but I doubt it’ll be open for much longer. Not after… What I did. I fucking… Henry suggested, though not recommended, that I do what he did after Charlie- bury myself in my work. So that’s just what I did. Hours spent messing with robotic parts, fussing with the animatronics themselves- and very much contemplating suicide. Michael would be far better off with Henry anyways; I had nearly nothing to live for- but Cassidy! I had to bring him back. **I had to bring him back. I wanted to save him. He didn’t want to be sav e  d. CH4R L i  E  w a  s** there, at the pizzeria. The puppet. It had been repurposed to give out cheap toys to children based on their bands. The damned thing somehow wasn’t scrapped. I’ve made sure to steer clear of it. I actually considered walking out and forgetting my plan right then and there but why did ~~she have to be there why did she let me do it why did she sit there why did she watch them why did shebringthembackwhydoesanythingnothte-I-Ipll_sodnshh h~~_

_~~I kn~~ _ _ew I would only be there for a day at the most. Just long enough to get in unnoticed. I didn’t think I’d be… Slaughtering so many. God… I’m so fucking messed up._

**X**

_My plan was simple and easy. Lure the last birthday party to the parts and service room- stab, kill, and leave. I would watch from afar and see if the place got any more haunted. But I couldn’t even fucking do that properly. No. There was a bigger party than I had anticipated. I’d seen three children go into the hallway- but there were five there then. I still had to do it, though, now that my scarred face was known to them. It wasn’t hard to get them away, but… God, why the hell did I do it. Why didn’t Charlie fucking stop me- **thEY WON’T STO ~~P FO~~**_ **_~~LLO~~ _ ** **_~~WING~~ _ ** **_~~ME PLEASE LEAVE ME ALONE~~ _ **

**** _I had a knife. I had a knife. I had a knife.  I ended up slicing at one, but they all ran out the door, down the hall to the party room. I cornered two of them. My knife. I had it. But one of them got it away. Was it the puppet? No, it was the little red-headed one. He bit my hand. At the same time I slit his throat and his mouth clenched around my wrist. I dropped the knife. He fell onto it, and I couldn’t get it in time to chase after the other kids. I grabbed the nearest thing- a metal rod. I chased the nearest child back towards the main area, and got her. The next kid had tripped and twisted his ankle near the stage. I snapped his neck. The last one was in Mangle’s cove- crying, pleading. I almost stopped. I didn’t. Charlie watched me walk past, watched me from the box- and didn’t try to do any fucking thing about it. It’s been staring at me since, when I come and go, when I leave, on the way home, in my window._

_Shut up. They won’t stop following me. Shut up shut up shut up shut up SHUT UP STOP IT_ _S ~~TOP IT STOP IT STOP **IT SWEAR I WILL KILL YOU A SECOND** TIME~~_

_The red-headed one in particular. Foxy? No, he’s a kid. Just a kid. He keeps staring at me. He’s whispering in my ear again. They keep telling me things I already know. “kill yourself”, “we know what you’ve done”, “monster”, but “she told us to keep an eye on you” has shaken me more than anything. I catch the Puppet staring at me, the children’s souls dancing around it every so often, but…_

_Cassidy is there too. He won’t come close for more than a few minutes. He just stands by that thing and watches me. Sometimes he’ll scream, and vanish. Sometimes he dares approach the desk and glance at the note, but only for a second- before either pulling away or glaring at me for several minutes afterwards. I’ve tried to talk to him, but he won’t listen. Fredbear doesn’t move whenever I mess with it in the parts and service room- even though it’s away from everyone- even though it’s not restrained by “day” mode. Cassidy hates me._

_I did my best to save him and now he resents every cell in my body._

_I did this for him. Doesn’t he understand that? I wanted to bring him back. Elizabeth, too, but Cassidy was first and- I didn’t do it. Charlie did. Maybe that’s why._

_I refuse to speak to them. I’ve closed myself off from everyone. Henry as well, because if I… He stopped by the first two weeks, every day. He would sit at the front door and on occasion have troubling stifling his sobs. He knew I was there, and he knew I couldn’t talk to him, couldn’t open the door for him. He knew what I was doing on the other side of the door with a small knife. I didn’t leave my house. I couldn’t- I haven’t left during the day. Sometimes towards closing time, or in the morning. But they keep following me- what if they’re real and others can see them? Am I the only one they’re targeting? wHY WON’T THEY LEAVE ME ALONE? I haven’t told them what my plans are. They’re never interested in what I’m writing- but I’m going to go back, later than usual- I’m going to take over the guard’s shift for one night. One night is all I need to take apart all of the animatronics. They’ve been possessed, I know it. The souls may be following me but the suits have been possessed because after midnight they always leave, for one, two, three, four… Six hours. Exactly six hours, and then they’re back, breathing down my goddamn neck. I’m going to take them apart. Afterwards I’m going to stab myself- I haven’t decided to whether to put this note on my doorstep or trash it, but either no one or everyone will know what happened. I’ll probably be blamed anyways. Better for me to than Henry. The girl is staring at me from under the table again._

_I heard that Spring Bonnie was thrown into the safe room yesterday. In the past, before Cassidy… I accidentally tripped the locks- luckily Henry had been there that instant to stop it._

_Maybe_

_Maybe I can_

_I’m going to take them apart, I’m going to set them free, I’m going to set myself free._

_~~I’m going **to set us free**~~ _

Michael sat there for several minutes afterwards, staring, mouth agape. What had he just read? He knew, in the back of his mind what all of this meant- but his conscious stubbornly tried to swear up and down otherwise. His father had to be… He wasn’t lying. The note had been found stashed into a drawer full of other untouched paperwork, the souls (as his dad had seemed to experience it) weren’t interested in his pity and he, now, was gone. But Michael knew he hadn’t committed suicide.

                His father was rotting in one of the Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza establishments right now because of this. Because of him. _Save the children_ , a voice reminded him.  Michael’s rotting hand clenched the paper tighter.

                _Save them all_ , he thought back.

   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of the text with strikethrough actually had this sort of glitchy symbol text I was using before, but it didn't show up here?


End file.
